Fixing Me, Fixing You
by winterschild
Summary: Weakness. This isn't something he would ever knowingly succumb to. So when he does and doesn't realise, Gohan tries to piece his friend back together. In the process, Piccolo learns just how long can you push someone before you push them away - Violence and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Fixing Me, Fixing You**

Some AU - I try to keep characters canon but the situations won't be.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters or contents

**Chapter One**

A chill worthy of winter nipped at him as he woke but he kept his eyes closed, enjoying that morning fresh feeling. He didn't often wallow in bed. In fact, he didn't often sleep, but last night, fatigue had finally caught up with him. Dende had been kind enough to give Piccolo a room at the Lookout though in the older Namekian's opinion, it was hardly necessary. Up until recently, he hadn't a need for the neat, sparse space with a view of the courtyard. Never the less, he was grateful for it now. As he breathed, he noticed the gentle scent of some tree Mr Popo must have planted, its pleasant pollon travelling with the breeze. He opened dark eyes, pupils dilating in their search for light, and slowly sat up. The blanket slid from his chest and pooled in his lap, making him shrug in an attempt to hide an involuntary shiver. It was still early, though dawn had come and gone. His muscles groaned at him as he moved, taught and abused from the previous day's training. Gohan sometimes asked him what he was training for exactly, and his answer was, as always, to become a stronger fighter. What utter bollocks. He was a warrior, he trained to improve his strength because he wanted to and needed to. A sense of self development helped but ultimately? He did it because he always had done.

Probably always will.

Though he was well aware that his power was becoming more and more obsolete, dwarfed by those around him. He scowled at his own line of thought and threw the blanket away, ignoring his body's desire for warmth. Standing, he rubbed a palm over his eyelids and quickly made the bed. He wasn't domestic by any stretch, but if he owned a house, it would be a tidy one. Clad in only trousers, he left the room. Quietly, he walked through the halls of the lookout, knowing the layout like he knew his own skin, and soon found himself in the bathroom. The room was large and he wondered, not for the first time, if at one time the lookout had housed more than just a couple of odd souls. Turning on the hot water, he stepped out of his clothes and into the shower. His thoughts went wild for a few minutes, as they often did after sleeping. He usually avoided succumbing to his subconscious by way of sleeping, it always led to his mind being an absolute mess the next day.

Using a softly scented soap he quickly washed, enjoying the warm spray as it beat against his abused skin. Bruises on his abdomen and hips that should have healed caught his eye and he frowned. He belatedly realised then that he was thirsty. Dehydration was the number one cause of his irritation, Saiyans, half or otherwise, not included. It gave him headaches, made him tired and most of all, his healing would grind to a halt. It would then take a good twenty four hours before it would kick in properly. At this human healing rate, he felt every little brake, every scrape and it made him grimace as his hands moved over his skin.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Gohan landing on the lookout, or Dende going to meet him. Not that such things should concern him.

Turning off the water, he dried using a towel Mr Popo had provided. He stepped back into his trousers, which were purple but made of a thicker material than his gi and more form fitting, they didn't taper in either so he didn't bother wearing shoes. Useless for fighting, but comfortable for sleeping. Tying them at the waist, he walked out of the bathroom and into Mr Popo, who held out a mug to the tall Namek. Piccolo accepted the drink, nodding a suspicious thanks to the small genie, and continued down the hall.

The herbal tea was sweetened and its aroma wove its way to Piccolo as he walked, eventually coming to a small library. He lost sight of where he was headed for a moment as he reached the door, his vision giving way to some long lost memory or thought that didn't belong to him. He paused with his hand poised over the handle before composing himself. Sighing, he pushed open the door open but as he walked in, he didn't notice Gohan and Dende, who stood off to his right. They had been waiting for him in silence, having already talked non stop for the last twenty minutes. As he entered, they were a little taken aback by the topless Namek as he idly wandered in. Gohan had never seen his mentor in such a state of unawares and watched, amused, as Piccolo placed his mug on a desk littered with books and parchment, and picked up what looked like a shirt. The clothing was distinctly Namekian and Gohan had a feeling that it actually belonged to Dende, who had grown remarkably since the demi Saiyan had last visited. The young Namek was now only a couple of inches short of Piccolo, though he was no where near as broad.

Gohan continued to stare with an open mouth as Piccolo shrugged the white and grey garment on and walked around the desk. He noticed with some concern that his mentor appeared to be a little more lithe, though his muscles were still strong and defined. He glanced at Dende, who simply shrugged and smiled at Gohan, clearly amused by Piccolo's blissful ignorance. The young guardian wasn't surprise to see the older Namek in a state of undress, as the other man had been residing at the Lookout for a few years, but it was the first time he had seen him 'potter' about. Dende smile faltered a little however, at the sight of bruising on Piccolo's stomach. It was rare to see a Namek with injuries for more than a couple of hours after affliction, let alone the next day. Being a healer by trade, he also knew the reasons why he would still be bruised and stored the information for later.

Gohan's intrigue increased ten fold when Piccolo did the single most human thing he had seen the Namek do in his life so far. He picked up a pair of reading glasses and long fingers pushed the spectacles farther up his upturned nose when they threatened to fall off. Gohan, not being able to contain himself any longer, cleared his throat.

"Ahem…"

Piccolo froze, a pen clenched in his right hand and his left poised over an open book. The urge to fight met his consciousness with immediacy and he cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He tensed as he clicked through a thousand unpleasant scenarios in an instant, but amongst the mess and the noise in his mind, his ears identified the owner of that cough. He instantly felt stupid. _You've got to be joking._

His onyx eyes flickered to the left and he noticed at once that Gohan was trying not to laugh. Dende too was biting his lips in an effort to remain quiet and Piccolo leaned back in the old wooden chair he was sitting in, crossing his arms over the bare chest exposed by the open shirt. He spoke directly to Gohan, his deep tone not betraying how caught he actually felt. For all appearances, he looked furious.

"Can I help you?" His tone was testy.

The demi Saiyan, who was wearing dark trousers and a tucked in shirt, stepped forward then and stuck his hands in his pockets. Reaching the desk, he leaned forward to read some of the literature Piccolo had been looking at before answering. Piccolo used this opportunity to remove the spectacles, his pride in tatters as he did.

"Um…Yeah. I'm here to ask you a favour"

Piccolo narrowed his eyes, following Gohan's line of sight. He knew however, that Gohan couldn't read Namekian. He wasn't about to tell his former student that he didn't either, and that in fact, he was in the process of learning it. Dende had provided a few of his native texts for him to study some time ago, though he hadn't told the Guardian why. Piccolo wasn't sure if he wanted to know what favour Gohan was after.

"What?" He growled out the word, more than a little irritated that he was sat half dressed, with glasses on and a cup of tea. Feeling ridiculous would be a pleasure in comparison to this. It didn't help that Gohan was making his examination more than obvious. _Spit it out kid._

His former student hesitated, it hadn't occurred to him that Piccolo might be busy.

"The world tournament's coming up and Pan wants to enter"

This amused Piccolo, the girl was only four but she already had a fighter's head on her. Gohan continued.

"I was wondering if you would help train her. You know, since you did such a good job with me"

He smiled as he spoke, his past bringing back fond, if painful, memories of training with Piccolo. The seated Namek smiled back, baring a fang in the process.

"Sure"

Gohan picked up the mug of tea, smelling it. The bitter sweet scent made his nose crinkle and he handed it to Piccolo.

"You look like you should drink this"

The Namek recognised that immediately. It was Gohan speak for 'drink it, or I'll force it down you'. This teacher business was making his old friend rather bossy, and he wondered why Gohan didn't want to train Pan himself. He took the mug and placed it down, teacher or not, he wasn't going to take orders from the younger man. Gohan frowned at his mentor, before probing.

"Are you okay?"

Piccolo growled, not feeling like submitting to an interrogation just because the other man had an obsession with making sure everyone was alright. Dende had left the room a few minutes ago to give the two some privacy but Piccolo found himself wishing the other Namek would return and interrupt.

"I'm fine"

Gohan made a non committal noise and leaned forward with both hands on the desk. Piccolo didn't need to have attended school for him to recognise that he was now speaking with Professor Son Gohan.

"You don't look it. Are you sure there isn't something wrong?"

Piccolo didn't lean back in response and instead raised an eye brow. Keeping his tone steady, he answered.

"Quite sure"

Gohan feigned satisfaction then and smiled, the characteristic Son smile that was genetically contagious.

"Okay then. If I bring Pan up Saturday morning then?"

Piccolo nodded, relieved that the previous conversation had come to an end. It was only Tuesday.

"Bright and early" Piccolo added that for effect, though previous experience told him that a four year old with little sleep wasn't exactly a bundle of fun.

"See you then" With that, Gohan turned on his heel and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Piccolo remained seated, genuinely tired and irritated. He rubbed his forehead as old memories and voices surfaced in the scramble of his mind. He would have to meditate soon to clear it. Fighting back those recollections, feelings that weren't his own, personas trying to converge, it was wearing thin. Seeing Gohan should have improved his mood, not worsened it, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The sickly, hollow feeling that usually found its way into his chest began to fester, and he sighed.

Twenty five years of this; it was beginning to take its toll.

**Let me know if I should continue this - it's probably going to get dramatic, as usual, but I do like subjecting these characters to these odd situations**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fixing Me, Fixing You**

**While I wait for enthusiasm to return, I will probably keep posting on this one, to bide time I suppose. I will eventually complete my other stories! Thank you for your support reviewers, you keep me inspired.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters or contents**

**Chapter Two**

Pan's young strength hit him like a train, linear and at full force. They had worked for five hours and her energy was only now beginning to wane, despite having started in the afternoon. Her fists hit hard and fast and while he concentrated on her endurance, he didn't mind that they rarely met their target. Piccolo grunted for the last time before putting his right hand up to signal the end of their sparring. Behind the heavily breathing form of his little student, Videl waved for a second time and smiled, apparently pleased that the pummelling was over for today. Dinner steamed in front of her through the kitchen window and he marvelled at how she had changed. The young woman was a fighter by nature but motherhood had rearranged her priorities. Dressed in a bright orange gi and with hair tied back in a pony tail, Pan grinned at Piccolo before bounding back to her home.

It was day four of their training and Piccolo thought that she was making remarkable progress, considering her domestic background. He let his hands fall to his sides as he watched her walk inside and smirked at the top of her head as it bobbed up and down just above the work surface inside. His sensitive ears picked up Videl's request for her to wash up before dinner and the high voice that used to make him cringe now seemed warm, gentle, even. Gohan walked out through the open door with his hands stuffed into beige slacks, smiling at the pondering Namek. Piccolo didn't appear to notice him and his gaze wandered to the field just behind the Son household, which was only two or three hills away from Chi chi's.

Gohan creased his brow as he observed his old friend and breathed in to clear his throat, only to hold his breath when Piccolo beat him into the conversation.

"I know that you're there. I'm not blind you know"

Piccolo flickered his unimpressed ebony eyes towards his former student and nodded before turning away.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?"

The Namek tilted his head but continued walking, uttering a no thanks as he took to the sky. Gohan frowned before walking back inside and softly closed the door. Things had been awkward between them for a while, so much so that his wife had noticed. She cast him a weary smile as she served up.

Piccolo flew leisurely towards the Lookout, allowing the crisp air to caress his skin as he travelled. He considered meditating but as he landed, he decided against it. The tall Namek walked quickly to his room and leaned back against the door as he closed it. The short bout against Pan had worn him out more than he was willing to admit and he sighed at his own weakness. A headache, the pang that now plagued him almost constantly, ebbed away behind his eyes.

He snarled and ripped his gi shirt in frustration. Making a snap decision, he tore the rest of his clothes and switched on the adjoining shower. The hot water only softened his temperament for a few moments and before long he was dried and looking for civilian clothing. Several garments had found its way into the sparse wardrobe over the years and he smirked as he found some that Gohan had given him. _So you can fit in, I mean, if you ever feel the need to. I mean, you__'__re fine as you are. Um__…_

Pulling on the rough denim material always felt odd but for some reason, he liked it. The cotton shirt was a snug fit, as were the jeans, but they would suffice. He hesitated as he went to turn the handle to the door, it was only seven o'clock and he didn't want to run into Dende on the way out. He turned and brusquely jumped from the window, freefalling from the lookout for as long as he dared before flying horizontal. Piccolo flew for over an hour through the twilight, he didn't really have a particular destination in mind and he absentmindedly veered right towards one of the larger city's in the distance.

Unbeknownst to him, Gohan flew above and just close enough to discern Piccolo's form as the other man yet again meandered towards nowhere. The Namek was brilliant at hiding his chi, but completely unaware that Gohan had followed him to the lookout, and was now tailing his every move.

Gohan had known something was wrong even before Dende first came to him, actually visiting his home in person one evening two weeks previous. The Guardian was privy to a great deal, and while he couldn't identify what the craft other Namekian was actually doing, he knew that whatever it was, it wasn't healthy. While Gohan thought that Pan did need, and would enjoy, some martial arts training, the main aim was to observe and Piccolo had given the young professor more than enough to warrant his concern. Every look, every gesture, was ear marked with distraction. Entirely not Piccolo. He felt dirty as he followed the taller man but he had deliberated for weeks, and this was the only way he could be sure. He looked down at the flying Namek, noting that the other man was slowing down as they neared the city. _What are you doing?_

Piccolo couldn't help but scowl as he landed, touching down in the filth of some ally in uncomfortable human footwear. _Everything they wear is so damn tight. _He would have cursed himself for not hearing Gohan land gently on the rooftop to his left, had he known. With a steely determination he walked through the dingy corridor, ignoring a leering look from one the occupants entrenched in the dirt. Humans always could make his skin crawl but he knew that tonight he wouldn't stick out. He had been surprised to see some of the people that came out at night, he was simply just another one of them.

Gohan's steps were soft and his breathing steady, concern and curiosity warred with his control but he managed to stay back, peering around the corner of the ally as Piccolo walked across the poorly lit street. Once the Namek had walked far enough, Gohan shrugged his jacket collar up, bowed his head and followed. He narrowed his eyes as Piccolo stopped at one of the door's lining the high street. As Gohan walked, he could see his former mentor speaking with someone at the door and he started to panic as he neared. _Go in or continue walking, don__'__t make me walk by you_

Piccolo's features remained passive as he conversed with the wretch that humanity left behind. The skinny male coughed every couple of words and the sound of phlegm screeching up his throat made the Namek clench his jaw.

"Come on" He spluttered, leaning back only far enough to let the Namek squeeze past "in, big guy"

Gohan watched as the Namek pushed forward awkwardly, selfishly relieved. He made the educated decision to walk around the block and then follow, though he frowned as he peered into the dark and dingy place into which his mentor had disappeared.

Piccolo's insides cooled at the pet name the appalling man had chosen and insisted on using. He breathed in to avoid contact and moved quickly, walking down the long, dark corridor and down some stairs. The pungent aroma of alcohol and sweat made its sickly way to his nostrils and he sighed, wondering what diseases he could be picking up just by breathing in a place like this.

His only consolation was that he probably wouldn't remember the smell, the deteriorating wallpaper, the toad at the door. _With any luck_, he smirked, _I might not wake up at all._

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